


VOC@LOID TWiST: Lost One's Weeping

by StrikingLightning



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: Disappointment, Dreams, Friendship, Frustration, Gen, Grades, High School, Students
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 06:39:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7607665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrikingLightning/pseuds/StrikingLightning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Story versions of vocaloid songs you love- but with a twist! Currently taking requests on what other songs to story-fy. High school sophomore Shinya thinks he'll resolve himself to being a terrible writer after receiving terrible grade after terrible grade. Though he may be steadfast in his cynicism, his world views begin to change when classmate Michel enters his life...</p>
            </blockquote>





	VOC@LOID TWiST: Lost One's Weeping

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: A story for all the ones who feel inadequate no matter what they do to change. That is to say, everyone. Bonus points to those who are in or are aware of the American public education system. Currently taking requests on what songs to story-fy next!

Think about the one thing you’re bad at. That one thing which, no matter how much time you put in, never seems to turn out the way you want it to. Or something where something always comes up and you can never really give it your all. Maybe some of you can think of more than one thing, but just focus on one for now. You know there’s someone who can do it better, and it’s possible you know someone who infuriatingly puts in less time than you, puts in less tender loving care. It’s not fair, but you know it happens.

The icing on the cake is when they get back a grade on something or they see the final product of their work- a craft or an art, for example- and it doesn’t meet their expectations. They complain, even though what they did was ten times better than anything you could whole-ass. For example, the student who crams and gets a B+ or A, while you’re trying to bash your head into the wall over that C you THOUGHT you worked hard for. Like, bitch, calm down. Some of us have real problems.

Do you realize how frustrating it is to put so much time into something- a skill, hobby, some shit- only for you to look incompetent compared to the next person? People in this world only see results. They don’t see the amount of time you put in. This aggravates me to no end. You see, talent isn’t a myth. It exists. Some people can just walk into an exam without cracking open the textbook, start that paper the night before it’s due, and they’ll get As. But there are people that put their noses to the grindstone and get Cs for their efforts. These poor saps pour in their time, and what do they get out of it? Not the equivalent of what they put in. I have yet to take an economics class, but even I know that that’s messed up. It’s not fair. What’s even the point of putting in effort? No one can be good at everything, you know.

“Shinya.” A voice calls me out of irritation. Stapled papers slide onto my desk. A rubric is the first page, a large table with pointy ranges on one side and wordy descriptions of what you would have had to do to earn those grades. Ha, as if! English rubrics feel so arbitrary, they’re absolutely grating on my soul. This isn’t chemistry class, where if I tell you 0.5 mL of hydrochloric acid is needed to neutralize sodium hydroxide, you give me full credit. Science and math classes are black and white. I love it. English classes, on the other hand, seem to reside in a grey world that’s hell bent on always going against you. There’s always something you did wrong.

The first thing I see on the paper is a red “75” circled crazily. Great. Fantastic! I always wanted _another_ C! I flip through my shitty essay and see sparse comments. I grit my teeth at the comments. It would have been helpful if someone had told me the teacher preferred writing of this style BEFORE I wrote this! Smoothing out my short black hair, I look through it all. It’s not particularly helpful in this situation, but it’s a harmless tic I have.

The teacher then goes back to her desk and starts up the computer. She’s young- I think she started teaching a couple years ago- but she acts like she’s experienced, what with the way she walks across the room, starts activities, and talks to us. Her dark-brown hair is in a tight ponytail, and her light blue dress shirt and black pants. She always wears something similar every day, nothing short of dressing professional. I bet, though, over time, she’ll get burned out. What is first done with passion and energy ends up fading away, I’ve found out.

She then opens a PowerPoint and drones on about things that should be improved upon in our essays. Thing is, though, the next essay is in three weeks, and by then the book will have change. Not to mention there will be different requirements for the essay. How on earth can I do better if the requirements are changing too fast? How can anyone?

You see, I’m not really an artsy person. Sure, I can get down with a creative writing project once in a while, but essays? History? Painting? I’d rather eat cafeteria food. I’m more of a STEM kind of person. I do MUCH better in my math classes. All my talent went elsewhere.

My grades are fine, though, really. Some As, some A-s. My parents get a little bit upset at the A-- you know how some overachieving parents can be- but in the end it’s the same as an A in my GPA. Actually…I’d be happy with my GPA if it weren’t for this stupid English class.

A B. I’m sitting at a solid B in this class. I made the mistake of “challenging myself”, as the guidance counselor and fifty college admission counselors put it. Maybe this doesn’t sound bad to you, but I’ve been getting Cs and Ds on my essays. Now, most of the grade involves essays. The rest are gimme points: did you read the book and annotate it (pretty useless), did you fill out this occasional grammar worksheet (pretty useless), did you participate in class (eh, can be pretty useless). You can barely do worse than I have been. No, I don’t have a B in this class. It’s an F. My B feels like an F.

I’ve tried so hard to understand what I’ve been reading. But the real issue here is my writing. How on earth do you practice writing essays? It’s not easy, especially once you have a fundamental understanding of grammar and know what the teacher wants. Though what a teacher wants changes from teacher to teacher, it usually involves 5 “prongs”, an introduction paragraph, 3 body paragraphs, and one fucking conclusion. Who on earth could help you with something like this? Writing tutors don’t delve into such categories (not to mention there aren’t a surplus of them around), and teachers have better things to do than to actually help you learn. A lot of time you have to know the skills before the class. The class isn’t there to teach you things, it’s to test what you already know. And if you don’t know it? Well, you’re behind the 8 ball. Have fun tripping over every assignment, destined to never catch up!

“You need to have integrated quotes. It’s very unnatural to read some sentences, a quote, and then some analysis on it.” The teacher goes on to some examples from other people’s essays, the quotes taking up a couple different slides. She puts the kid’s name beside the quote. She does this every time we go over an essay. I’ve noticed that it’s same set of people every time. At first I was okay with this, but over time it starts to sting, seeing the same people do well.

I’m stuck, and no one can teach me how to get unstuck. You hear people talk about fixed and growth mindsets, and it makes you feel bad. Articles tell you that you don’t have a growth mindset; if you just keep at it you’ll get better. You were already down, but these people are out there trying to say that you _basically aren’t pushing yourself hard enough_ , and _that’s_ why you aren’t succeeding.

I hate this class. When the bell rings, I’m all too glad to jam my papers into my backpack and speed out the door. If I had slowed down a bit, I would have seen the guy in front of me put his essay in his backpack. I would have seen a “64” on his. I would have seen the rubric scrawled with red comments. But I didn’t.

I really should have.


End file.
